


We're better in numbers

by TheIceQueen



Category: The Walking Dead & Related Fandoms, The Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: Bad Things Happen Bingo, Blood, Bromance, Bromance to Romance, Caretaking, Fireplaces, Gen, Healing, Hurt/Comfort, Injured Daryl, Injury, M/M, Major Character Injury, Pain, Torture, Unconsciousness, Walkers, Whiskey - Freeform, aaron to the rescue, maybe..., tied to a pole, tied-up
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-28
Updated: 2018-10-28
Packaged: 2019-08-08 21:08:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,649
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16436807
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheIceQueen/pseuds/TheIceQueen
Summary: Walkers happened and then people happened. Daryl is seriously hurt and Aaron is the one there to clean up the mess.





	We're better in numbers

**Author's Note:**

> This fic is written for the Bad Things happen Bingo [Square filled: Tied to a Pole]

The group was split by a big horde and Aaron had found himself hiding from walkers in a cabin which didn't have anything but a fireplace and whisky to offer a hungry and scared man. Even on the second night, after he’d run out of water, he decided against drinking. He had to stay up and alert. 

After most walkers had cleared out, he had to get out there and find his way back. He had a slight idea in which direction he had to take, but a part of the horde had to be blocking the way so he walked further away to get around. Coming across a small creek, he thanked every god he’d ever heard of while he almost fell in head first, drinking and filling his bottle at the same time.

The first walker he saw was alone and was walking away from him so it was easy for him to get down. His heart was on its way out his chest when he saw three more, but he quickly realized that they also didn’t notice him. He made a move for the one in the rear and got it and the next before the last could get to him. This was weird. They were walking away from the horde, but to what? There was no sound, but maybe there had been. He looked around and didn’t see more of them. He should walk the other way, but there was something in the back of his mind that drew him off the trail. It could be some from the group. Everything is better in numbers.

It seemed like it had only been those four walkers walking towards whatever this was. Five minutes later he still didn’t hear or see anything and he contemplated turning around. Getting lost out here would be life-threatening even for people like Daryl or Jesus. Aaron could usually hold his own, but alone, lost, sleep-deprived and hungry, it would be close to a dead-sentence.

With a head-shake and a sigh he gave up and turned around. Something caught his eye between the trees to his left. Looking closer he froze. Making sure to tread carefully and quietly he moved closer. It was definitely a body. Had someone stung a walker to a tree. No, not a tree, it was a big pole. And if it was a walker someone had already gotten to  the brain. It wasn’t moving.

It was quiet and Aaron slowly stepped closer. It was a man. He was hanging by his hands which were bound to the pole high over his head. He would have been able to stand, but now his feet were hanging limp on the ground, making the strain on the wrists, arms, and shoulders look excruciating. He had no shirt on and as Aaron moved closer he saw the red lines over his bare back and blood still running from them. This was resent. The man’s face had fell to his shoulder and was covered by it and the half-long dark hair.

The shoulder moved.   

Not a lot, but enough to make Aaron focus on the back which was clearly moving in rhythm to a shallow breathing.  

”Shit!” 

With both hands he lifted the man’s head to see his face, earning a deep and loud exhale of pain.

”Daryl!” 

How did he not notice before? The dark shirt still on his arms and chest, the boots, the knives strapped to his thighs.

”Daryl?”

The hunter didn’t open his eyes, let alone answer. The panic filling Aaron’s body, mixed with the adrenaline already taking up too much space, made his ears ring. He had to get him down, and it had to be now. Daryl wasn’t going to pass out or lose control unless he was seriously injured.

He went for his own knife but, realized that Daryl’s could get the job done faster and grabbed one. Daryl made a growling noise that almost sounded as if he was annoyed, but he still didn’t move.

The big knife chopped through the layers of rope with only a few hits and Daryl plummeted to the ground with a loud howl. Aaron was by his side instantly. He lifted Daryl’s head from the mud and to his relief there were two light blue eyes looking up at him.

“Hey.”

“H-he-y.” The whisper was only a shaped breath, there was no movement on Daryl’s face at all.

Aaron wanted to wrap the shaking man in a blanket right there and let him sleep till he was all better, but even without the threat of walkers, and whoever did this, they couldn’t stay. They had to get those cuts treated.

“Can you walk?”

Daryl nodded and grabbed Aaron’s upper arm to get seated at first. It wasn’t easy and the sounds coming from Daryl had Aaron double check for walkers, but eventually Daryl was kinda standing. Leaning heavily on the pole. Aaron grabbed the knife and while doing so he noticed the familiar shape of a wing peaking through the mud under them. Not giving it an extra thought he picked up the leather vest and shook most of the mud of, before putting one arm through both openings and pulling Daryl’s arm over his shoulder.

Daryl couldn’t walk. It pained Aaron to have his arm around Daryl’s torn up back, but not nearly as much as the pain it inflicted on the hunter. With every tenth step or so, Daryl’s legs failed in holding him up. Aaron figured that half of the times, maybe more, it was a result of Daryl almost passing out.

“A-Aar…”

“I’ve got you. Just a little longer.”

Aaron let Daryl stand still for a second after pulling him to his feet one more time.

“No… Just…” Daryl turned his head slowly and still fighting to catch his breath he looked at Aaron with eyes that could only mean one thing.

“I’m not leaving you!” Aaron tightened the grip on Daryl and continued the tenuous walk. “Let me be the bad-ass for once.”

When the five-minutes-tour away from the trail had taken closer to twenty to get back, Aaron knew that neither of them would make it home, so he half-carried, half-dragged Daryl back to the cabin. At least they had a roof over their heads and could kinda hide from walkers.

* * *

Aaron’s hands were still shaking when the fireplace started to warm up the place. Daryl had curled up on the floor barely inside the door and with the light from the fire Aaron could see just how pale he really was.

“C’mon. Let’s get you warmed up.”

Aaron took Daryl’s arm and after winning a silent argument between their eyes, he pulled the shaking man to his feet. Daryl hissed and growled as he got down on the blanket laid out in front of the fire. Without words Aaron guided him to lay on his stomach. He catched Daryl’s head and softened the blow when he collapsed and fell the last of the way down.

A hiss and the following angry sigh, cut through the air between them.

“I’m sorry.”

Daryl looked up but only closed his eyes and shook his head.

“I need to get this of you. I need to take a look at those wounds too.”

Daryl only hummed in response. It tore into Aaron’s heart that the strong man didn’t put up a fight or at least try to brush it off as nothing. There was not much of the Daryl he knew left in the man in front of him. With the smaller knife he cut the rest of the muddied shirt off him. He took of his own shirt and t-shirt underneath. It was cleaner. At least it was the best they had to tare up into rags, so he could clean up the mess that was Daryl’s back.

Rags from a sweaty t-shirt, too little water and an unopened bottle of whiskey. It wasn’t close to being an ideal situation, but it was what he had to work with, and he was adamant on making it work. Saving water he used the first rag dry, to wipe away as much as the blood and mud as possible. He was careful, but had to work hard in places, making Daryl growl and his shaking got more violent as Aaron carried on.

“Hang in there, Der. I’m sorry.”

Daryl’s fingers curled around the edges of the blanket and he held his breath. Aaron concentrated on getting this over with.

“Okay. Break. Breathe for a while.”

Daryl’s lungs filled rapidly and for a minute or so he was panting heavily. Aaron laid his hand on Daryl’s upper arm. Not even Aaron knew if it were to tell him that he was still there or to let him know that he was not doing anything else, yet.

After Daryl slowly got back to not moving and breathing in a fixed slow rhythm, Aaron let go and poured some of the whiskey on a rag. Starting at the side, making his way in over the wide of the back, he cleaned Daryl’s torso. Daryl hissed as the fabric covered in burning liquid touched the lines of broken skin. Aaron watched out not to touch the open gashes, but the more superficial red lines were too many to avoid and some were not to be seen before the blood was washed off. Every line that became clear added to the knot in Aaron’s stomach, but what made him want to throw up was not the fresh, burning-red lines that hurt Daryl when touched; it was the old, wide and deep scars revealing themselves to him. The faded ink in the strategically placed tattoo has clearly been added after. Daryl could not have been more than a teenager when that tattoo was made.

Aaron swallowed to make sure his voice were still there before put his hand on Daryl’s arm again and spoke.

“Der...? Take a moment before I clean the wounds, okay?”

Daryl looked up for a second and then nodded and let out a big sigh as he relaxed the muscles in his back and neck and let his face lie heavily on the blanket.

Aaron looked at Daryl’s back. They could really use a doctor with a suture kit, but right now he would settle for clean bandages and painkillers. He had to clean the open wounds and wash everything with water after. Not even Daryl, who had clearly been through more that anyone knew, could take that mush pain.

Careful not to startle the abused man, Aaron slowly moved back Daryl’s hair from his face. “Hey… You with me?”

Daryl’s blue eyes opening to look at him did wonders for Aaron’s ability to keep breathing, but secretly he wished that Daryl would pass out sooner rather than later.

“Here. You’ll need this.”

Arron lifted Daryl’s head and slid his leg under his chest to hold him up, and held the open bottle of liquor to his lips. Without questioning Aaron’s intentions or judgement, Daryl drank fast until the bottle was removed again.

“Okay, okay. I need some left for your back.”

Daryl’s head felt heavy in Aaron’s hand and for a moment Aaron just sat there. When he took a rag to Daryl’s forehead, he told himself he had to wait for the alcohol to work, and when he used some of the water to get the mud off the nearly unresponsive face, he told himself that he could get more later, if they needed it. Five minutes later Daryl was almost sleeping and only hummed when Aaron moved away and let him lie on the floor again.

Aaron threw another piece of wood in the fire and got back on his knees next to Daryl.

“Sorry man, there’s no way around this.”

Half a bottle of whiskey covered Daryl’s back and a scream threatened to knock down the four walls around them. Daryl gasped and coughed and desperately tried to get up, but he was clearly lacking both strength and control to do so. Aaron could easily hold him down while cleaning the wounds. He worked fast. Cleaning out every sign of dirt of debris from the long wounds. Daryl’s hand found Aaron’s knee and latched on like he were to fall off a cliff.

“Almost there. You get to empty the bottle after, I promise.”

Daryl’s coughs and shouts stopped and his hand went limb. For a second Aaron was confused, but as he caught op, let out a breath that almost made him pass out too. Still fast, but less frantic, he got the job done and poured the rest of his water over the cut-up but clean back.

He sat back on his heels and tried his best to calm himself. There was nothing more he could do. There was nothing left to help them except the fire, but Aaron found some peace in that Daryl was breathing calm and had stopped shaking as soon as he passed out. Only now, did he notice how cold he had been himself. He took his shirt from next to the fire and put it on. He wished that he had something clean to cover Daryl with. He could clean the vest later but for now he had to just stay like this.

Instinctively, he laid down with Daryl between him and the fire. Even with the space between them it had to be warmer for Darryl being sounded by heat sources.

Aaron looked at the hunter’s face. He was more relaxed than he would have expected. Not even a frown on his forehead.

* * *

“Where is my bow?”

Aaron woke with a jolt, at the low growling voice next to him, and stared directly into Daryl’s barely open eyes.

“What?”

“Where is my bow?”

Daryl moved his hand as if he was going to push himself up, but Aaron took it and held it firmly in his. “Calm down, Der. We’ll find it… just not now.”

It seemed like Daryl’s mind had caught up with what had happened. It had certainly caught up with the pain; his jaw locked so Aaron thought he might brake a tooth as he tried to lie down still again.

“Just rest for now. You need all the strength you can get, before we make our way back.”

The huff and smile from Daryl didn’t go unnoticed.

“What?”

“So you…” Daryl cleared his throat and Aaron held on a little tight to his hand, as to prevent him from slipping away again. “…so, you’re not the bad-ass anymore?”

Even the loud exhale when Daryl had finished his sentence could wipe the smile off Aaron’s face. “You remember that, huh?”

Daryl nodded and closed his eyes. “Yep.”

Aaron rested his head on his upper arm and kept looking at Daryl. “Der…?”

A hum revealed that the hunter was still awake.

“How’re you feeling?” It was a stupid answer he knew, he had to still be in quite a lot of pain, but mostly he wanted to know where his head was at.

“Been better…” the light blues opened and found Aaron’s eyes. “I’ve made it through worse.”

The pain in Daryl’s eyes were not from the present. It was much older and the look on his face were begging Aaron not to go there. With a small squeeze of Daryl’s hand he nodded and let the exhausted man close his eyes.

“It might take two bad-asses to get that bow back, so let’s get you up and running first.”

The small curl of Daryl’s mouth could very well be the beginning to a smile, but it never got that far, before he fell asleep. Aaron considered throwing a log on the fire, but with Daryl holding on to his hand, even when sleeping, convinced him to stay put. At least for now.

**Author's Note:**

> tumblr: its-me-theicequeen


End file.
